


rain's lament (the story that ended before it could begin)

by RyeFo



Series: Apple Koi [2]
Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Internalized Homophobia, Kaori Okumura is very briefly mentioned, M/M, Unresolved Romantic Tension, ash's past is very briefly mentioned but it's nothing too major
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-19 05:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22139356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyeFo/pseuds/RyeFo
Summary: In Japan, they speak of the red string of fate that binds two lovers together, no matter the life; but here, in this one, Shorter was the red string itself, and that colour will forever be the last colour he saw streaming from that beautiful heart.“I miss him too, Eiji.” Ash holds him tighter, head buried in Eiji’s hair. He’s not hiding, though; Eiji is too close not to feel the trembles, hear the shaking in his voice. “We were so close.”“Mm. We were.” Eiji twists a little, just enough to feel Ash’s shaking breaths on his cheek.(Or, Ash and Eiji each remember a moment where they came close to falling in love with Shorter Wong, and the space left behind, void of him.)
Relationships: Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji, Ash Lynx/Okumura Eiji/Shorter Wong, Ash Lynx/Shorter Wong, Okumura Eiji/Shorter Wong
Series: Apple Koi [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1541170
Comments: 28
Kudos: 160





	rain's lament (the story that ended before it could begin)

Ash reminisces very little, these days.

Tokyo isn’t an idyll like he’d been led to believe; it’s awkward, it’s messy, and his Japanese (much to his chagrin of admitting Kaori was _right_ ) is clumsier than he thought. He spends his days studying and keeping fit; learning to cook and navigating foreign waters and culture shock.

But there’s a peace to it he’s never known before. Eiji is here. He’s in love, engaged ( _engaged_ —him, of all people). He can just be. For now, that’s enough.

He’s dusting the bookshelf whilst Eiji’s away at university, daylight becoming more and more swallowed by dusk. Ash is dusting the bookshelf, then books, studying topography until one falls out and onto the floor.

Ash bends down to pick it up when it gives him pause—

 _Shawshank Redemption._ The one book he’d taken from New York with him.

The dust from the bookshelf catches the light of dusk, as Ash sits down with the book on his lap, and the memory begins to play out.

* * *

_(“They’d have to be human to count as gay. They don’t qualify.”)_

The words from that book have become distorted in his head, merging with other dialogue. It doesn’t matter to Ash.

He’s been sitting here for _God_ knows how long, avoiding the eyes of Golzine’s men (in more ways than he cares to fucking count), on the floor of this dusty library that he swears has more chairs than ghosts. He only came in here to wander, to get away from prying eyes—

And he saw it. Lodged at the back of a shelf, idle curiousity—a childish whim he was always fucking denied, so sue him, he took the book and read it. The cover was half-torn off from condensation.

He only meant to flick through one page.

Ash ends up reading the entire thing four times.

It’s nightfall when the librarian finds a golden-haired, scruffy kid with a snotty nose and teary eyes staring at a book far-passed his apparent age range. His answer is to shoo Ash out; not to question why a kid is still there at eleven at night, on his own, looking like he’s wearing clothes too big for him.

Adult sympathies for downtrodden kids don’t exist in Ash’s world. They’re just pests, or appealing appetizers for their hungry fucking mouths and he fucking hates all of them.

(Men can burn in a fire. Women aren’t much better.

And yet—)

He’s sitting on the roof of an old car drinking coke now, the book still hidden behind his back. Ash dangles his feet, pretending that the cigarette smoke Shorter blows from his nose are the waters near Cape Cod, that he’s splashing his feet there like any normal kid.

It doesn’t work. Obviously.

“Surprised you came back,” Shorter says, onyx eyes hidden by those tacky shades. “You said my cooking sucked.”

“ _Nadia_ made dinner this time.” Ash folds his arms and huffs. _“She’s_ halfway decent, unlike you.”

“Is it just the dazzling company, then?” Shorter flashes him a grin; he’s lost a tooth from a fight. “Ash, I’m touched. I didn’t know you cared so much.”

Ash laughs as he punches Shorter’s shoulder. “You are such an _ass._ ”

The laughter subsides into another drag of a cigarette. It was a nasty habit, Shorter would tell him like he was lecturing a child (he was _one-and-a-half_ years younger than him, dammit!), but something about the rhythmic smoke soothes Ash in a way he hasn’t… had before.

“So,” Shorter begins, flicking the cigarette to the floor and starting another. “Where’d you go today?”

Ash shrugs. “Hung around. Avoided people.”

“That’s the best I’m gonna get out of you today, isn’t it?” Shorter shakes his head, a fond grin coming to his lips. He gestures to the book hidden behind Ash’s back. “You go reading? That’s Steven King, right?”

Ash is tempted to hide the book but shyly brings it out instead. “…yeah.”

“One of the few fucking books he doesn’t set in Maine.”

Ash smirks. "I'm sorry to say that it _is._ " Still, he's surprised. “You read his stuff?”

“Nah, I just know internet memes.” Shorter seems to think something over. “I did read one, though. _Carrie_. Scary as shit. Haven’t read _Shawshank Redemption._ It any good?”

“I…” Ash struggles to piece together something convincing enough. “Y-Yeah. I liked it.”

Shorter takes another deep breath; smoke comes out of his nose. “I’ll have to check it out, then.”

There’s something about the way Shorter leans against the dilapidated car he’s been trying to fix up, head craned to the sky like there’s little care in the world beyond this alleyway. His new piercing glints in the moonlight, scuffed trainers show a small mole on his toe. His glasses sometimes give way to the onyx colour of his eyes.

Ash swallows and turns his head away, cheeks getting hot. _Stop. That’s wrong. You’re not supposed to be like this. That’s **them.**_

And… yet.

_They’d have to be human first. They don’t qualify._

Those… people in the book. “The Sisters”. They did the same… stuff to the main character in _Shawshank Redemption_ that Dino and Marvin considered their given right with Ash. They weren’t human, aren’t human, Ash thinks.

_Maybe I still am. Maybe I qualify as human._

Ash’s hands press together, palms going sweaty. “Shorter.”

“Yeah?”

“Could I… ask a favour from you? I’ll pay you back. Whatever you want. And if you say no, can we fucking drop it and never talk about it again?”

Shorter gives Ash his full attention, flicking the cigarette away and stamping on it. “If it involves any of my guys—”

“No, it… it’s something else. Nothing gang-related. It—it’s personal. Quick.”

Shorter raises an eyebrow. “Guess I can try, then?”

Ash gulps audibly.

“Could you kiss me?”

Shorter’s shades drop down his nose as he jumps back in shock. “I— _what?”_

There’s a furious blush on Ash’s face. “I just—” He runs a hand through his hair and—fuck, when did it get so hot out? “I—I want to see if it’s okay. Really okay. And I couldn’t—there isn’t anyone else I can ask.”

Ash squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fists so hard, he swears he’s close to drawing blood on his sweaty palms.

_I should have dropped it, shouldn’t have bought this up, stupid, stupid—_

“Ash, I’m not gonna bite your head off.”

Shorter’s shadow casts doubt on his insecurities; Ash finds himself wanting to meet his gaze, but Ash still keeps his head down, jade eyes wide open.

“Hey,” Shorter puts a hand on his shoulder. “Will you look at me, Ash?”

Nervously, with a fluttering in his stomach, Ash manages to meet Shorter’s eyes. He’s taken off his shades, and there’s a little smile on his mouth that Ash wants to just—

“We can drop it,” Ash says quickly. “Sorry.”

Overhead in the clouds, overcast thunder begins to shake the sky. Birds scatter out of fear; though, Ash notices that one lone sparrow remains, tucked-in wings flightless. It is watching him and Shorter from a shelter in a nearby storm pipe.

“You want to see if it’s okay to kiss a guy?”

Ash gulps down something thick in his throat. “I didn’t trust anyone else… to ask.”

_Let alone take something from me without permission._

_You, though. You see me as human. Do I qualify, in your eyes?_

“See, Ash,” Shorter rubs the back of his head. Dark brown—or grey? —hair has started overtaking his bald head. “I’ve been wondering that, too. Not sure who else I could ask, ‘cept you.”

Ash’s head snaps up. “You… have?”

“A guy can question his sexuality, right?”

Ash narrows his eyes. “I know you’ve jerked off to that angel card more than enough to know you like girls.”

“You can like _both,_ dipshit. Or—I could. I don’t know.”

_Both._

Ash thinks back to the girl he once asked Blanca about. The girl who he almost, _almost_ blushed at when she offered him a smile and kind words. _Copper,_ he remembers her name being. Beautiful tawny skin and brown eyes. Laughter like music.

And Shorter.

Maybe.

“So, you…” Ash picks a hangnail off of his thumb. “You’re not grossed out that I asked.”

Shorter shrugs. “Not that _you_ asked. If it were some pervy bastard who was twice my age—” He doesn’t notice the way Ash flinches. “—then I might tear his nuts off, but _you’re_ asking me. So, that’s okay with me.”

Ash recovers just quick enough that he hopes Shorter doesn’t notice. “It’s okay with you.”

“Mm. It’s okay you asked.” Shorter glances at Ash from the corner of his eye, then back to the sparrow in the pipe. “It’s okay if you want to, as well. I’d say yes. If you want.”

Something changed in that moment; Ash can’t find words, and Shorter doesn’t care to try and fill the air with empty talk. Jade eyes meet onyx eyes and together, they make smoky green, like charred forests recovering from a fire.

Shorter moves first. He turns his body so that he’s facing Ash, who stays sat on the car. He stays there for a while, lingering at that impasse and waiting for Ash to catch up.

Ash, for a moment, hesitates. He’s not used to being allowed a turn. He spies Shorter’s trembling hand, the same one he uses to casually flick cigarettes down the drain, and with his own shaking fingers, takes it in his.

Shorter lets out a laugh, breathless and delirious. Something like " _didn’t know you were a sappy bastard,"_ that probably plays on his tongue.

Sue him. Maybe he likes holding hands.

Their fingers intertwine. For a moment, Ash can believe they’re just two boys about to have their entire worlds twist into a different orbit, and this is the biggest self-discovery they’ve ever had.

Ash isn’t sure when the rain started falling; now, he’s lost in the reverie of Shorter Wong’s lips on his. All he knows is that when Shorter pulls away, he finds himself chasing; Shorter’s other hand cradles his cheek, pushes against him a little, and it’s—

It’s okay.

He’s kissing a boy, his best friend, and it’s okay.

It doesn’t hurt.

“Ash?”

Ash blinks slowly, dazed and blown away. “I can’t give you more.” He mumbles. “Not unless you pay. They won’t let me get away with any more freedom.”

“What—” Shorter shakes his head, the anger fading. “I don’t want anymore. This can just be it.”

Ash’s mouth feels dry. “What?”

Shorter smiles, tapping Ash’s forehead playfully. “You asked for a kiss. I wanted one as well. There’s no rule saying that you owe anyone anything more, and whoever forced that on you can go fucking die in a _fire_. This can just be it. It doesn’t have to mean anything more.”

Cheeks hot, Ash hangs his head. “It _did_ mean more.”

“What?”

“It—it meant.” Ash struggles; he’s read over a thousand books, and the words don’t come to him easy. “It means… it means it’s okay. And it was you. You made it okay.”

_You let me qualify as human. You made it so they didn’t win._

_You made it okay for me to like boys, too._

“Ah.” Shorter giggles— _giggles,_ like he’s a schoolboy with a crush—and pulls back. “Then, I’m glad I could help. Guess part of you _is_ charmed by me, huh?”

Ash blusters, whacking Shorter on the shoulder. “You fucking _wish._ You’re just a perv.”

“Yet you kissed me.”

“Oh, _fuck off,_ Shorter.”

It’s moments later, when the rain gets stronger, that Ash knows this moment in the alley is over. The world is closing in on him again, and he won’t let Shorter get caught in the crossfire. He’s a bright star; he deserves to shine for decades. He probably will, too.

Ash launches himself off of the car and zips up his hoodie when Shorter catches his arm.

“You could come with me.”

Ash’s eyes widen. “Huh?”

Shorter looks him right in the eye. His shades still hang from his collar, and Shorter’s onyx eyes are on _fire._ “With me. I could protect you. You don’t have to keep going back.”

_To him._

For a moment, for one golden moment, the rain is pouring hard enough that Ash can dream. To escape here, with Shorter Wong… it’d be a crossroad of stars, lighting up a future where nobody could hurt him again.

For a moment, he lets himself dream.

And then he thinks of _her._ Of Copper Garcia, a kind young girl who he almost, _almost_ blushed for when she gave him a flower; and the moment he saw her lying in a pool of her own blood, dark hair matted. Because **he** got jealous that his “ _sweetheart_ ” had eyes for someone else.

Shorter Wong won’t be like Copper Garcia. A story that ended before it could begin.

Ash would rather die.

He smiles sadly and takes his arm away from Shorter’s hand. “We both know that can’t happen. We can’t fly away from this place.”

Shorter doesn’t look convinced. Ash has stopped looking.

Instead, he gives Shorter a wave, remembers the taste of his first real kiss with a boy on his lips, and runs off, following the sparrow into the rain.

* * *

The front door opens.

Boots are kicked off. A green coat is hung up.

Ash rolls over on his bed the moment the front door closes and Eiji enters the house, shaking off the stray raindrops. Ash puts the book on the bedside table when Eiji reaches for a nearby glass of water left out for him. Ash closes his eyes and forgets about the memory.

Eiji sees a photo album on the ground and picks it up, flicking through the pages.

Each memory that floods through his mind are a taste of bittersweet honey and the names begin to crop up. _Skip, Griffin, Jennifer, Yut-Lung’s mother, every innocent soul that Golzine murdered in the name of petty greed._

One name stays lodged in his throat.

_Shorter Wong._

Instinctively, Eiji reaches for his shot glass.

Instead, his fingers trace over the scar behind his ear.

* * *

Rain sweeps over the sky like a flock of birds; they should be migrating, but as Eiji did, they fall to the ground and shatter. The lights flicker, but he stands underneath the shelter and huddles his knees close to his chest, frowning.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Eiji snaps his head up at the sudden voice and sees Shorter, coming and sitting down next to him. “You shouldn’t be out here on your own, Eiji.”

“Sorry,” Eiji ducks his head out of guilt. “I needed… to think.”

Shorter hums, popping a strip of gum into his mouth. He holds one out to Eiji, who shakes his head. “Suit yourself,” he says as he starts to chew. “Everything alright?”

Tucking his hair behind his ear, Eiji stops halfway and frowns at the gauze sewn into Shorter’s forehead. Carefully, he reaches up to touch it, before taking his hand away and balling it up into a fist.

“I hesitated.”

Shorter shakes his head. “You didn’t grow up this way, Eiji. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

“Ash said I needed to protect myself—”

“Ash says many things. Never listens to his own fucking advice half the time. Do you know how many times that stubborn fucker walks headfirst into danger? I’ve had to bail his ass out more than once.” Shorter laughs, rubbing his hand over his mohawk and messing it up. “Don’t beat yourself up over it, okay? We’re from different worlds.”

 _Everyone keeps saying that._ Eiji pouts, folding his arms. “There is only _one_ planet.”

“True enough, but can you say Americans are exactly the same as good ol’ gun-free Japan?”

Eiji pauses for a moment. “You are all much blunter in your dislikes.”

“Good ol’ fashioned honesty.”

“I prefer it. It makes it less of a pretense.” Eiji shakes his head fondly. “My sister puts on a façade to cope in school situations, but when she is free she _laments_ over it.”

“Your sister?”

Eiji pulls out a picture on his phone. “Her name is Kaori. An annoying brat obsessed with coffee.”

Shorter whistles. “She’s cute.”

Eiji turns his phone off and glares. “Hands off, Shorter Wong. That is my _sister_ you whistle your appreciation at.”

“Meant cute as in _kittens and puppies’_ kind of cute. She isn’t my type.”

“You had _better._ Besides, she has a boyfriend. You are not going to be her type either.”

Shorter’s laughter drifts off into the backdrop of the rain before he pulls out his phone and begins to search through a few tabs he had left open. He nudges Eiji’s shoulder to draw his attention.

“Is this you?”

Eiji looks at the screen and pauses. _FLYBOY IN THE SKY CRASHES BEFORE PRO-QUALIFIER._

There he is again, seventeen years old and clutching his ankle. There he is, with a snapped bone and a future in the dust. A story that ended before it could begin.

“Yes,” Eiji clips.

Shorter takes note of Eiji’s bristling nature. “You were good, from what I saw.”

“You were not there when I leaped to help Ash—”

“I found some old videos of you practicing.” Eiji startles at this, but Shorter seems to pay it no mind. “They were on your high school website? I’m not great at reading Japanese and I don’t know shit about pole-vaulting, but it translated well enough. You could have gone pro. You were good.”

Eiji manages to find his voice after some blood goes back into his brain. “I—I, well. Thank you,” he starts but shakes his head. “I was always too small. I lacked a natural advantage.”

“And you almost went pro despite it?” Shorter nudges his shoulder. “C’mon, that’s awesome.”

“I-I.” Eiji tries to fight how hot his cheeks are feeling. “Why did you search up _videos_ of me practicing _?”_ He asks, desperate to change the subject a little.

Shorter goes a little quiet.

“Curious, I guess.”

Eiji leans forward. “About what?”

Shorter shrugs, pushing up his glasses. “About you.”

“Me?”

“About what… draws you here? What kind of world did you come from? Who you are, where you started?” Something seems to make Shorter turn his head away. Eiji isn’t sure if it’s nerves or embarrassment. “I got curious. Does it need an answer?”

“I could if you ask me. I am not some big secret.”

“That’s not what I meant—” Shorter stops himself and laughs. “Jeez, I can see why Ash likes keeping you around so much. You’re so _good._ ”

Eiji huffs and folds his arms. “All this—good talk about me. You speak as if your world is devoid of it.”

Shorter raises his pierced brow. “We aren’t exactly saints.”

“Ash protected me, and from what I hear, you jumped from a crate to save him and Skip. You are here of your own volition to help your best friend, you have saved me many times, and carry on trying to be good to others even in the position you are in.”

Eiji narrows his eyes, and something in the rain stills so his voice is the loudest thing in America. “In your world that is devoid of good, to me, that makes you the definition of kindness.”

There’s something in the air that feels like electric. Basic science teaches you that electric and water aren’t good; that it’ll carry faster and kill anything in its path. Eiji feels like he’s stuck right in the middle of monsoon in lightning because the way Shorter _stares_ at him with his shades slipping down his nose, showing those illuminated onyx eyes…

Eiji feels a shudder right to his fingertips. It’s not entirely unpleasant.

Shorter’s hand gently reaches out and tucks a lock of Eiji’s hair behind his ear. “You’ve got…” He then grabs a band-aid from his pocket—a small, circle one, and gently presses it over the fresh, healing wound that Eiji had tried to keep hidden.

Shorter cleans the wound a little with his sleeve, before stripping the band-aid from its plastic coat. “Noticed it earlier,” he mumbles, gently turning Eiji’s head and keeping a warm hand on his jaw. “Should’ve said something.”

“I did not—” Eiji swallows. “Want to burden anyone anymore.”

“You’re not a burden,” Shorter corrects, pressing the band-aid to the wound and gently smoothing out any wrinkles. “Your strength lies in building us up. That’s why Ash finds strength in you.”

“You could do that,” Eiji gazes up at Shorter. “You could be a _Robin Hood._ ”

There’s a sad smile on Shorter’s lips. His fingertips hesitantly trail away from Eiji’s jawline. “I can’t fly, Flyboy. That’s on you.”

* * *

When the photo album closes, Eiji takes a moment to press his hand against the cover, letting out a private sigh. His silver-rimmed glasses hang over his collar, glinting with the small hints of sunlight that crack through the blinds.

Two arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him against a strong chest and a thrumming heart before he can reach for the brandy bottle. Together, they twin in painful beats. There are still empty moments; a third heart void, silent, echoing in the loneliness.

“You were thinking about him again,” Ash mumbles against his hair.

“As were you.” Eiji nods, though he doesn’t twist to face Ash. He can’t look away from the photograph on the mantle; of Shorter grinning at him, peace-sign upturned on the back of the van.

In Japan, they speak of the red string of fate that binds two lovers together, no matter the life; but here, in this one, Shorter was the red string itself, and that colour will forever be the last colour he saw streaming from that beautiful heart.

“I miss him too, Eiji.” Ash holds him tighter, head buried in Eiji’s hair. He’s not hiding, though; Eiji is too close not to feel the trembles, hear the shaking in his voice. “We were so _close._ ”

“Mm. We were.” Eiji twists a little, just enough to feel Ash’s shaking breaths on his cheek.

Eiji closes his eyes and puts his hands over Ash’s; and bitterly, to that garden of deities that dared to try and take Ash away, Eiji realises that even with the space between them, the cold still seeps in moments like this.

 _You didn’t take Ash away this time,_ Eiji says, his thoughts like the knife he should have plundered into Arthur the moment he tried to craft Shorter into his attack dog. _But you took Shorter Wong, exploited his loyalty and love. For that, you deserve to live with a thousand knives lodged in your spine and forced to walk an Earth with that kindness you snuffed out. We’ll see who takes mercy on the man who killed love incarnate._

“Hey,” Ash breaks Eiji from his passionate reverie— _“there is no anger like the Okumura’s”_ , he remembers an old announcer for a pole vaulting competition saying about his expression after he lost—and blinks fast. “When did that picture get put there?”

“What picture?” Eiji looks around at the frames on the wall and startles when he sees a small row of photo-booth pictures tucked into the corner of Kaori’s graduation photos. “I… I don’t know. I thought I lost these.”

Eiji reaches forward and pulls the picture closer.

It’s only Shorter with his arms through around him and Ash, that goofy grin plastered on his face whilst Ash looks marginally annoyed and Eiji bemusedly fond; sepia-toned (“it’s authentic! Like those old movies.” He remembers Shorter insisting.), and shallow breaths come from Ash and Eiji, twinning with that empty space, void of Shorter Wong.

In this series of photographs, Shorter Wong’s onyx eyes _shine._

( _Oh, those angel eyes, mea culpa, mea culpa—_

 _You were taken so soon._ )

“ _Fuck_ —”

Eiji twists more to see Ash gripping onto him harder, tears budding in those jade eyes. “Aslan,” he puts a hand against Ash’s cheek. “ _Ash._ ”

Sometimes, memories rush back at us like a tidal wave; _tsunami,_ large waves, and Ash is drowning in those old ghosts—Eiji was a pole-vaulter, he learned to fly, not swim—now he’s drowning too, _reach for me Ash, reach for me, I can’t grieve him alone again—_

The photographs fall to the floor, and what is written on the back stills Ash and Eiji both.

“Did you write on the back of it?” Ash asks, hiccupping.

“No, I—” Eiji bends down; Ash comes with him, arms still around Eiji’s middle. “I never did.”

Holding the picture closer, the words reveal themselves the second they become comprehensible to Eiji and Ash’s short vision. In Kaori Okumura’s familiar scrawl, Shorter Wong sings from the beyond;

**_He will always love you both. His soul is always with you._ **

Ash and Eiji look at each other.

“Did… did you ever tell her about us…?”

Eiji shakes his head slowly, eyes still wide. “She has seen me, ah, drinking about it, but I never said that I… that _we…_ felt for him that way.”

Those jade eyes of Ash’s fall on Kaori’s graduation picture; Eiji follows Ash’s trail.

It leads him to really notice, for the first time, her eyes hidden behind a dark pair of shades that are too big for her. Behind her, she stands with her classmates in a field of golden rye, and no shadows cross the photographer’s vision. There’s a small door etched in the rye if Eiji looks close enough.

In the sky, though it looks like ordinary dandelion seeds adrift on the wind—if Eiji closes his eyes and distorts reality, it is stardust that rises up.

“Eiji?”

For a brief moment, Eiji is confused why Ash is so blurry, why it hurts to look anywhere; when Ash’s thumbs brush away the tears, Eiji realises he’s been crying. He leans into Ash’s warm hold, isn’t surprised when tears streak down his fiancée’s face, and in tandem, Shorter Wong binds their hearts together once again.

“I was so close—” Eiji grips onto Ash’s hands like a lifeline. “I never told you, Ash, but I was so—so close to loving him as much as I loved you—if we had more time, I _would_ have, I just—”

“Me too,” Ash says; Eiji startles, backpedals in a shallow breath. Ash is gasping for air; they’re treading in the water together. “I was so close, _so close_ to loving him too. I never did, never let myself even after juvie, even after—after he became my best friend, then the leader of Chinatown, I couldn’t. You opened that door, Eiji, you let me put that wall down to the idea of loving him, then I—”

“Don’t you _dare,_ Ash.” Eiji grabs Ash and hugs him tight, hugs him fiercely. “Even if the world is against you, I am _by your side._ You _saved_ him. You saved _me._ We—”

Ash hiccups against his shoulder.

“Our story ended with him before it could start. It isn’t fair. But he loved us, too. Loves us, now. It is as Kaori wrote, yes? _His soul is always with us._ Now we live for Shorter, our lives his dreams realised.”

“Lazy bastard,” Ash laughs, arms winding around Eiji tight. “He should’ve been here to do it himself.”

“Yes,” Eiji sobs. “He should have.”

There’s an old story in Japan, about a koi fish who battled against a waterfall. He swam up to it despite the fierce current and was rewarded at the gate, transformed into a golden dragon.

Shorter Wong was no feral Chinese cat; no attack dog for Frederick Arthur.

To fly, with those angel eyes, he plucked a wing offered to him from a tender lionheart and a downed sparrow and shone brighter than any star dared. He flies, even now, that beautiful flyboy in the sky, but sometimes—

Sometimes, he’ll stop on that journey of his, and settle his wings, when he spies that downed sparrow and that broken-hearted lion. As stardust, like warmth, he’ll settle and put his arms around them, binding their love tighter together whenever dead ghosts haunt them.

They may have tried to ruin his mind, but his love and loyalty prevailed when he saw the eyes of a jade-eyed lion and felt the touch of a tender sparrow.

Can you see him, right now?

He’s right there, as Ash and Eiji hold onto each other on their hallway floor, crying for a lost love. Squint your eyes a bit. It’s hard to see stardust on earth, but he’s there.

His soul is always with them.

_Now we’re here, and now we’ll hold on._

**Author's Note:**

> TWITTER


End file.
